


Food For Thought

by BigBadWolfe



Category: Holby City
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff, Slow Burn, bonding over cooking lessons and lots of wine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 18:04:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7724419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigBadWolfe/pseuds/BigBadWolfe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I was wondering if you’d like a lesson or two.”</p><p>“In what exactly?” Serena frowned, “Writing shopping lists? I can assure you I became fairly proficient at them in my university days”. </p><p>“No – well yes I’m sure – but what I mean is that it seems like you could be in need of a cooking lesson or twelve and I just happen to be a pretty nifty cook,” Bernie flashed her a cheeky smile despite the thundering pulse in her ears. </p><p>(Or the one in which Bernie offers to give Serena cooking lessons but instead ends up learning a lot about her own feelings for Serena instead).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AN: This story has been a long time coming, and it's currently still being written so updates will be as often as I can manage with my awful wifi! But please note that this fic is set before "Indefensible", and works up towards it, so bear that in mind! Enjoy!

Bernie knew as well as the next person that making friends wasn’t simple. When you were children it was decidedly easier, bonding over the love of jam and cheese sandwiches or forming a fast friendship because of the TV characters on a backpack. Adults weren’t so easily swayed. They were already fully made with opinions and politics and moral compasses that didn’t all point in the same direction, something that Bernie knew all too well.  She’d found time and again that friendships were hard to come by but effortless to break, cracks forming through distance and disagreements until it was too difficult to hold onto the tiny fractions of the past, easier to let them go instead.

She’d sworn to herself the moment she’d decided to stay at Holby that she’d try harder, to make the connections that she so often ran from. Loneliness was familiar and straightforward, but friendship? It required as much give as there was take, a combination of risk and hope that frightened her because she’d lost so many people already. She’d watched them walk out and slam doors, slipping out of her grasp even as she begged them to stay. It hadn’t taken long to discover that being alone didn’t hurt nearly as much as being left.

But despite her fear, or perhaps even because of it, she’d opened herself up and was pleasantly surprised when she wasn’t beaten down. It had seemed, despite Ric Griffin and his tiresome rota, that she’d managed to befriend a great majority of those on Keller, and in particular Dom. He’d been the one to coach her through the fallout of Alex’s arrival, the one who’d sat and listened as she spilt her secrets. She had never had someone to talk to, outside of Alex of course, about her sexuality but Dom provided a welcome reprieve. She’d spent so long guarding her feelings, locking them away beneath excuses and ingrained fear that talking about them so openly brought a lightness to herself that she’d never felt before. She’d been granted a freedom inside of the hospital, and even though the gossip mill churned out rumour after rumour, she still felt like she’d finally found safety.

“Good morning,” Dom called out from behind her, and Bernie deliberately slowed her pace as she waited for him to catch up. “And how is our resident action Barbie today?” Bernie stopped entirely at that, tipping her head back to look up at the sky in frustration.

“I’ve told you-“

“Yeah yeah, not to call you that but come on,” Dom bumped a cup of coffee into her arm, indicating she should take it, “it’s a little bit funny”.

“Hilarious,” Bernie drawled, though gave him a small appreciative smile before drinking deeply, aware that she was in desperate need of the caffeine. Though she’d finally managed to pack in hotel living, the box flat that she’d managed to find wasn’t that much better. Whilst there wasn’t the threat of someone drunkenly trying to break into her room thinking it was theirs, she found it just as loud. Apparently the majority of her neighbours were young adults with a can do attitude about late night parties.

“Blimey, who’s pissed in your cornflakes this morning?” He joked, but when Bernie said nothing in return, not even a slight smile he knew something was amiss.  He stopped them at the bench just outside the entrance, holding onto her forearm as he looked her in the eye. “What’s wrong?”

Sinking down onto the bench Bernie peered up at him, eyes squinting against the first weak rays of morning sun. “I don’t know,” she sighed honestly, “tired I suppose”. She covered her eyes with a hand as Dom sat next to her, finger and thumb pressed against her eyelids. “Seems like the divorce is getting to me more than I thought it would”.

“Oh come on,” he nudged his elbow into Bernie’s side, “you’re just getting to the good bit now. In a few weeks you’ll be shot of him and then you can go find yourself a man”. He paused as Bernie turned her head toward him just slightly, “or a lady, because you know you’re super fly,” he waggled his eyebrows, “and very bi. Total respect”.

Bernie snorted a laugh, a grin pulling at the corner of her mouth as she pushed at Dom’s shoulder. “And just where am I going to find anyone who will put up with me? If you hadn’t quite noticed, I haven’t exactly got an astounding track record”.

“Who does? I mean look at me, I think I beat you when it comes to bad relationships. At least you haven’t had one of your beaus try and stab you”.

“True,” Bernie tipped her head as she conceded the point, “and I’m hoping to keep it that way”.

“Don’t knock it til’ you try it,” Dom said, “gives you a real appreciation for –“

He stopped as he realised he’d lost Bernie’s attention, looking around curiously for what had so obviously caught her eye. Scanning the surrounding area which was slowly filling up with those who were about to start a shift and ones who had just finished, he quickly spotted exactly who Bernie was looking at.  He almost laughed out loud as Bernie’s whole body twisted to follow Doctor Campbell’s quick progress across the car park and up toward the entrance, instead settled for a bitten down grin as Serena headed towards them.

“Morning,” Dom chirped as she came within earshot, glancing out of the corner of his eye to see Bernie’s shoulders stiffen at her presence, fingers squeezing tightly around her coffee cup.

“Doctor Copeland,” she nodded in greeting, running a hand through her hair as she looked across to Bernie. “I’ll see you upstairs shall I?”

“Yes of course,” Bernie was quick to answer, “I’ll be two minutes”.

Dom watched in utter amazement as Bernie ducked her head slightly, tucking a strand of unruly hair behind her ear before looking back up at Serena again. A smile played across her lips that Dom recognised almost instantaneously, a look he himself had pulled on numerous an occasion, before she trapped her bottom lip between her teeth. He wondered if Bernie realised that she was doing it, or if she was oblivious to how smitten she looked.

Serena returned her smile, her face appearing warmer and softer than Dom had seen it in a long time as she caught Bernie’s eye with a deliberation that he did not miss. “I’ll be counting”.

Waiting for her to disappear from sight, Dom turned back to Bernie with his eyebrows raised and eyes wide. “Holy shit”.

Bernie released her bottom lip from between her teeth as she focused on him once more. “Now what are you on about?”

“What am I on about?” Dom dropped his cup to the bench, hands braced on his knees as he looked at her incredulously. “Are you being serious?”

“It’s early and I haven’t finished my coffee yet, so please,” she waved her hand at him, “do explain”.

“Oh please. I’m gay not blind”. 

He cocked an eyebrow at her as though that would somehow help matters, and finally as he exaggeratedly nodded his head towards the entrance, he watched the recognition flood her eyes. Immediately she stiffened, a hardness to her jaw as she clenched her teeth.

“Dom,” she warned him sharply. Why was it that everyone seemed to think they could interpret her feelings for her? It was as though he were trying to push the point, as if he knew exactly what was going through her head, could see a truth that she was blind to. She wanted to shake him, to tell him to stop being ridiculous because there was nothing going on. She admired Serena of course, who wouldn’t with the way she handled everything with such diplomacy and grace, a strength to her that wasn’t necessarily obvious when you first looked. But she and Serena were friends, colleagues in fact. “Drop it”.

He shrugged his shoulders, finishing off the last of his coffee before dumping it in the bin. Springing to his feet, he turned on his heel to fix her with a look. “Alright, come on then, action woman. Let’s get to work”. Aware that he would get nowhere with Bernie like this, Dom knew that the only thing he could do was to let it go for the moment, afraid that if he pushed Bernie’s evident attraction for Serena any further she’d end up digging her heels in and refuse to see any sense at all. He was used to waiting games, had always been good at them, and he’d do just that with Bernie. He’d wait until she was ready to listen, or ready to admit it – whichever came first.

Growling at him, Bernie hastily followed after Dom as he hurried inside, slipping through the automatic doors. “Don’t start that again”.

“Give a boy a break, Ms Wolfe”. Stepping into the lift, Dom pressed the buttons for the floors that housed AAU and Keller, before leaning back against the mirrored wall.

“When are you going to give me the same courtesy?” She huffed as she began unbuttoning her coat, preparing herself for another day in the mad house. As the lift shuddered slightly as it came to a halt at the first floor, Bernie waited for the doors to open before springing out of them. Looking back at Dom who was still grinning at her, she sighed. “I’ll see you later”. 

“Not if I see you first!”

The lift doors shut and Bernie rolled her eyes, wondering how on earth she put up with him. In some strange way, Dom reminded her of her own children when they’d been younger, before they had turned their backs on her. He was funny and sweet and just that little bit in need of help, a trait that Bernie always responded to; a second nature that she could not ignore.

Hurrying to the locker room, she undressed and tugged on her scrubs in record time before hurrying out to the ward. Heading over to Fletch to ask if he’d seen Serena, she nearly bumped into the woman herself who was busily checking over the iPad in her hand.

“You’re late,” Serena stated, glancing up at her.

“You counted?” Bernie asked, surprised that Serena had kept her word over something so trivial.

Smirking, Serena flicked her finger across the screen as she scrolled through the notes of a transfer patient from St. James’. “Of course I did. I like keeping you on your toes”.

Stomach tightening in knots, Bernie looked around for something to busy herself with, glad when Serena instead opted to hand her over the iPad she’d been using. “What’s this?”

“Our job for the day,” Serena told her, walking toward the bay in the far corner as she did so, prompting Bernie to follow after her, “Mr Thomas has been transferred here after complications due to a stab wound to the abdomen. Apparently we were recommended – seems we’re rather well known nowadays”.

“The dynamic duo”.

Serena licked her lips as the corner of her mouth upturned. Catching Bernie’s gaze, she raised an eyebrow. “You better believe it”.

…

The surgery on their transfer patient was long winded, lasting for the entirety of the morning and pushing on until just after midday. Though a gruelling experience, it went off without a hitch as they both worked in their familiar harmony to perform the laparoscopy, fixing the tear to the small intestine.

As per usual Bernie took her well-deserved break outside, sitting in silence in the serenity garden as she smoked. She tipped her head back, watching the slow sailing clouds as they rode through the dusky blue sky, relishing in the moment of peace before she’d have to go back and face the chaos of the ward. They were unusually busy for a day where nothing major had happened, all of their beds full despite their being no accident to mention. Though unperturbed by the constantly demanding manner of her job, it didn’t help the thrum in her head as she tried to bring her thoughts together. It seemed that when she thought she had them under control, had worked out something definitive about herself or her future, it all slipped out of focus once more in an endlessly frustrating cycle. One moment she was certain of her feelings for Serena, and the next a litany of self-doubt overtook her to squash them back down again.

As she took the last drag of her cigarette, she finally managed to come to a decision that wanted to stick with her, one which seemed as sensible as any. If there was one thing she had to be it was sensible, otherwise the repercussions of a brash and hasty decision were too devastating to think of.

What she needed to do to finally sort out the conflicted doubts and confusion that had only grown stronger with Dom’s input, was to find a way to spend time with Serena outside of the hospital. She needed to work this out for herself, away from the perpetually emotional ward where everything seemed magnified, blown out of proportion. She had to approach it logically and with a clear head, away from prying eyes so that they could discover what really lay beneath the layers of pretence that surrounded them.  One way or the other, she vowed to herself that she would finally come up with an answer, to discover what she truly wanted for once in her life.

…

Later that afternoon Bernie slipped inside of their shared office, sighing as she closed the door on the busy ward. The insistent noise from outside faded away into a nondescript hum, leaving the office as an oasis of sorts, one which Bernie was incredibly glad of. Leant against the door, she looked over to see Serena pondering a scrap piece of paper in front of her, her long fingers slowly toying with a biro. Moving quietly, unwilling to disturb her from whatever she was thinking so strenuously about, Bernie slid behind Serena’s chair in the hopes that she could offer her an answer to the unknown problem. However, as she cast an eye over the scrawled words in front of her, Bernie couldn’t help but laugh.

“You know, I’ve never met someone with such an aversion to cooking as you,” Bernie remarked, cocking an eyebrow as she read Serena’s shopping list over her shoulder for the second time. It was dismal to say the least, a handful of ready cooked meals with a stray bunch of bananas tacked at the bottom, as though they were an afterthought.

“Mind your own business. Anyhow, weren’t you ever told not to read over people’s shoulders?” Serena groused, folding the list in two and slipping it into her pocket before turning to glare up at Bernie reproachfully.

“Only if they’re writing personal things, which you weren’t,” Bernie grinned in response, stepping out from behind Serena’s chair. “Well unless you plan to add something sordid to your shopping list like-“

“Yes thank you, that’s quite enough of that,” Serena blushed. “Was there a point to this invasion of my privacy or am I allowed to leave now, Major?”

“Indeed there is,” Bernie cleared her throat, suddenly nervous as she bolstered herself to take the necessary step. It seemed as though she’d been presented with a perfect chance to get Serena on a one to one basis, only it had reared its head sooner than she’d expected. Steeling herself, she pressed onwards. “I was wondering if you’d like a lesson or two.”

“In what exactly?” Serena frowned, “Writing shopping lists? I can assure you I became fairly proficient at them in my university days”.

“No – well yes I’m sure – but what I mean is that it seems like you could be in need of a cooking lesson or twelve and I just so happen to be a pretty nifty cook,” she flashed her a cheeky smile despite the thundering pulse in her ears.

Serena cocked an eyebrow at her, pursing her lips. Bernie glanced down, afraid that she’d pushed at a boundary that wasn’t supposed to be tested. “Well you certainly weren’t blessed with the gift of modesty, were you? Or was that not within army regulations?”

Looking back up at Serena, she couldn’t help her grin as Serena smirked up at her in return. “Is that a yes or are you afraid the big bad wolf will blow you away with her cooking skills?”

Taking in Bernie’s knowing grin and the warm twinkle to her eye, Serena made her decision quickly; she was never one to bow to a challenge, and she wouldn’t start now. “Your terrible jokes aside, you’re on”.

“Brilliant,” Bernie swallowed as she realised how excited she sounded, took a breath as she worked on tamping down her evident joy. “When’s good for you and Jason? I know he’s very particular with routine and – well I don’t want to upset him by just showing up out of the blue”.

Serena couldn’t help but swoon just a little at that, at how Bernie took such great consideration of her and her nephew. She couldn’t help but cast a thought back to Robbie, to how he’d written them off because there was too much hassle, too much responsibility. The hurt still bristled in her chest, but she had moved on and was better for it, that much she knew. She had her priorities, her time split between her nephew and the hospital, both of which needed her. Her ward and her colleagues relied on her, as did Bernie who, whilst she drove her up the wall, had her back as well as a smile that could -

“Serena?” Bernie asked concernedly, when Serena stayed silent. “If it’s too much of a bother for me to come to you, then you could come round to mine? I mean I live in a box pretty much but I have an oven and a sink so technically it’s a kitchen-“

“Friday. Friday’s are good, if you’re ok with that?” She cut in quickly, unwilling to let Bernie think that she wasn’t prepared to spend time with her, “Jason has chess club in the evenings”.

“Perfect,” Bernie was close to laughing, amazed that Serena had agreed, “That sounds perfect”.

“Well then, it’s a date,” Serena said, however immediately baulked as she realised what she’d just said. She wondered whether she should right herself, to blush and apologise but Bernie merely smiled at her, before checking her watch.

“I’ve got to dash,” she apologised, “I promised Raf I’d have a look at this new patient of his”.

“Of course, of course,” Serena waved her hand in the direction of the door. “Off you go before Raf starts wondering where you got to”.

“I’ll see you later,” Bernie smiled, and Serena smiled helplessly back at Bernie’s contagious happiness.

“I’m counting on it”.

Bernie left, and Serena sat there half stunned, unsure of why every word that left her mouth seemed to hold a flirtatious edge to it. Maybe that was just her making things up. It had been a long day after all and – She didn’t ponder on it for long, feigning busyness to keep herself occupied, trying to ignore the warm flutter in her stomach at the idea that Bernie would be in her home tomorrow evening. Without thought, she smiled as her fingers tugged absently at her necklace, wondering what she’d gotten herself into.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Two chapters in one day so that I can get a fair bit out to you all. I hope you like it!

_Friday Evening: Lesson 1_

Friday blustered along in a whirlwind of activity, with nothing of particular note happening bar a small ruckus with a particularly uptight man who was convinced he was dying but in fact had a nasty case of gall stones. It wasn’t a tap up the arse, that was for sure, but nonetheless it was amusing when Bernie told him that he was a long way off meeting his maker, and that he needed a fairly simple surgical procedure in order to remove his infected gallbladder.

As the day drew to a close, Bernie found herself growing impatient for seven o’clock to come around, and practically bounced towards the office when the clock finally struck that magic number.

“So,” Bernie alerted Serena to her presence as she stuck her head around their office door, “are you ready to go?”

“Let me just finish these and I’ll be with you,” Serena answered, waving her hand at the small pile of files she’d yet to sign off on.

“Do you want a hand?” Bernie offered, as she flopped onto her desk chair, wheeling it around until she was positioned next to Serena.

“Thank you but unfortunately they all require my invaluable autograph,” Serena sighed, rolling her eyes.

“I’m a dab hand at forgeries,” Bernie offered, “and considering you’re in the room it isn’t technically against the rules”. She shrugged, “well at least that’s what I’ll tell Hanssen if he goes all bad cop on us”.  

Serena snorted. “For god sakes don’t say that too loudly or there’ll be a swarm coming for you and your,” she cleared her throat and smirked, “illegal talent”.

Bernie swiped a paper file from the top of the finished pile and pulled it in front of her, quickly studying the looping scrawl of Serena’s signature. Grabbing a pen, she tore a sticky note from its block and quickly, and rather expertly, scrawled out Serena’s name. Showing it to its owner, she grinned as Serena raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“So you’re good at charades _and_ forgery,” she said, “remind me not to let you near my cheque book”.

“I use my powers for good, not evil,” Bernie joked as she pulled an unsigned files towards her, briefly casting her eyes over its content before signing Serena’s name across the bottom.

“No wonder you get along with Jason so well. He’s forever going on about Superman and oh what’s he called,” Serena waved her free hand about as she tried to pluck the name from the air, “the boy with the uncle who gets shot”.

“Spiderman,” Bernie filled in for her, not looking up as she signed off another file.

Serena clicked her fingers, pointing blindly towards Bernie, “that’s the one”.

“Looks like Jason and I aren’t the only ones who know our comic book heroes,” Bernie teased, “you seem to know more than most people our age”.

“Was that a dig at my age, Ms Wolfe?” Serena asked, looking up at Bernie with a frown, biting down her smile at how genuinely afraid Bernie looked.

“I did say our age –“ Bernie began, but Serena just shook her head with a half-smile, deciding against stringing her along with any more faux angry words. Instead she diverted back to what Bernie had been saying.

“I suppose Jason’s rubbed off on me just a tad,” her voice had lost all of its earlier mirth, lowering into a much more contemplative tone. “I can only hope I don’t do the same to him. God only knows what he’ll turn out like with me to look after him”.

She rolled her pen absently between her fingers, leaning back in her chair as she observed Bernie. She watched the elegant movement of her hand as she worked and couldn’t help but wonder when Bernie had adopted such an unusual talent, why she’d started it to begin with. Perhaps her own parents had been particularly creative and she’d just inherited the knack, like someone might inherit blue eyes or brown hair. She sighed, and even to her own ear it sounded woeful.

Bernie looked up at her quizzically, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“You’re wonderful with him,” Bernie said gently, picking up the second to last piece of paperwork as she did so, twirling her pen absently between her fingers. “He couldn’t ask for a better guardian than you,” she stopped abruptly, her eyes shooting back up to Serena, wide and apologetic, “not that I’m saying his parents weren’t-“

“I know,” she said softly, and Bernie flushed as she looked down, dropping her pen. She locked her fingers together in front of her so that they wouldn’t fidget nervously, or drum against the desk in the same frantic and fretful rhythm of her heart. She stilled as Serena gently laid her fingers atop of hers. “Thank you”.

It was brief and soft, her hand drawing away no sooner had she spoken, but Bernie could feel the warm impression of her skin still etched into her own.

“You’re very welcome,” she smiled, willing her fingers not to tremble as she unknotted them. Signing the last paper, Bernie stacked them into a neat pile and pushed them towards Serena, desperate to divert Serena’s attention away from any tremble that might still be lingering. “Are we ready to go? Or are there adoring fans waiting out there for your signature as well?”

Standing and pulling on her coat, Serena stole behind Bernie’s chair and spun her around until she faced the door. “As long as you promise to stop making jokes, I’m ready when you are”.

Leaping to her feet, Bernie stood to mock attention as her hand flew to her head in salute. “Yes ma’am”.

Huffing an exasperated sigh, Serena grabbed her bag from the desk and headed out of the door. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“No ma’am,” Bernie quipped with a smirk, almost walking into Serena’s back as she stopped abruptly. She turned on her heel, glaring up at her as she prodded her finger against Bernie’s shoulder in apparent irritation but the corner of her mouth twitched upwards, belying her stern façade.

“Don’t think I won’t assign you to desk duty _all_ day Monday,” she growled.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Bernie prodded back.

“Try me”.

Bernie was adept in the art of war and knew when battles were over, so nodded sheepishly and pushed the release button of the ward doors. Sweeping her hand out in front of her in a grand gesture, she couldn’t help herself as she bowed her head, indicating for Serena to go first.

“After you, _ma’am_ ”.

…

She followed Serena back to her house, a little afraid that she’d be the cause of an RTC as her mind drifted well outside of trying to focus on which lane Serena was picking. She’d yet to fully appreciate what exactly she’d signed herself up for and it seemed that only now, as she hurriedly flipped her indicator to follow Serena at a right turning, it had hit her.

_She was spending time with Serena. Alone_. No distractions, nothing to interrupt her when she was embarrassing herself horribly, just them - and dinner.

Bernie swore, her palm growing slick as she gripped the steering wheel harder. Panicking slightly as she realised they were close to Serena’s home, having remembered the journey in part after dropping Serena off when her car had been stolen, she tried to clear her head. The same mantra circled around her mind as she fixated on it, persuading herself that all of this was perfectly normal and nothing to worry about -

The radio switched songs and the familiar opening riff to The Darkness’s _I Believe in a Thing Called Love_ played thinly through the speakers.

“Not. Helping,” Bernie spat, ramming the pad of her thumb against the off button as she watched Serena turn into her drive. Only moments later, she parked up behind Serena, a tight fit but nonetheless she managed. She willed her leg to stop shaking nervously as she paused for just a second before climbing out of the car.

“It’s a good job that your show boat of a car is rather small,” Serena called out to her as she flicked through her set of keys, before sliding the right one into the lock, “otherwise you’d have some difficulty finding another place to park. It’s like Piccadilly circus around here”.

“What’re you calling small, Campbell? This is my baby-“

“Oh god, you’re not one of those are you?” Serena groaned, shouldering open the door with a grunt. “Just because it’s a sports car, doesn’t mean it has feelings”.

Bernie clutched at her chest in mock horror, leaning heavily against the door frame as Serena shed her shoes and coat. “You wound me”.

Sighing, Serena stooped to pick up the post from the floor, flipping through it quickly as she spoke. “I really hope you aren’t this ridiculous when it comes to the kitchen”.

“Oh I’m worse,“ Bernie assured her quickly as she shut the door, slipping her shoes off, her coat joining Serena’s on the head of the bannister. A thrill went through her at the look of it, a picture of domestication, and wondered what it would be like to see her other personal belongings alongside Serena’s: her shirts in amongst her colourful array of blouses, her toothbrush next to hers.

“Then God help us both”.

Bernie grinned as Serena led them through to the kitchen, taking in the warm interior of the house, the family pictures that lined the hallway. Most of them were of Eleanor at varying stages; wrapped up in her mother’s arms, messily eating a piece of birthday cake, sat on the beach next to a crumbling sandcastle. Edward was, unsurprisingly, not in any of them. “Scared?”

“Of you?” Serena snorted as she flipped the light switch, “Not possible. You’re all bark and no bite”.

Bernie stayed quiet for a moment as she stepped into the kitchen, taken aback at the look of it. It was rustically inspired with more wood than metal, the floors a deep polished oak, the cabinets a shade darker. Settled in the centre of the room was a granite breakfast bar that overlooked the garden, the entire back wall made from glass panes apart from the patio door.

“Wow,” Bernie murmured, as she turned on her heel, taking it all in. She didn’t know what she’d expected of Serena’s home, but this certainly wasn’t it. “This is – very – wow”.

“Did you think that you were the only one with hidden passions?”

Bernie looked up at her sharply, heart squeezing almost painfully.

“You have your secret cooking talent,” Serena filled in quickly, as she caught Bernie’s wide eyed gaze, “and I – rather like interior design”.

“I can see that”. Bernie wet her suddenly dry lips, wondering what else Serena was hiding.

“So, oh mighty teacher, what are we cooking today?” Serena leant back against the counter, trying to dissolve the tension that had suddenly sprung between them. She watched Bernie as her eyes flitted towards the garden. “Or am I not yet worthy of wielding a spoon?”

Bernie faltered, frowning as she realised she hadn’t thought that far ahead. She’d been so busy gearing herself up for spending time with Serena, her head filled with a multitude of emotion, that she hadn’t thought to plan what they were going to do. She drummed her fingers against the seat of one of the bar stools.  “That depends on what you actually have in”.

“There’s pasta,” Serena said confidently, though pondered what else she actually had in, embarrassed at the prospect of revealing to Bernie how little she bothered to buy. “There’s always pasta. Probably some frozen vegetables – though honestly, I should’ve asked Jason. He’s the resident cook, rather enjoys being able to go into detail at how rubbish I am at this whole cooking malarkey”.

“However did you manage without him?” Bernie jibed, but then more seriously, “though really, how did Eleanor ever eat anything?”

“That would be Edward,” Serena muttered, crouching down to look through the cupboards, trying to hide the copious amount of soup cans on the shelves from Bernie’s prying eyes. “He was the cook, about the only thing he was honest to god good at”. She noticed Bernie’s raised eyebrow, “not that I’m bitter, of course”.

“Well there goes our embittered ex-wives club then,” Bernie sighed sarcastically, “it was fun whilst it lasted”.

Shooting Bernie an amused look, Serena gave up with the cupboards and instead opened the fridge, only to wish she hadn’t. There was very little that looked particularly appetising, a punnet of tomatoes, some mince that was just about clinging to its expiry date, and a whole shelf full of ready meals. She pursed her lips.  “Well, if you can find something to make out of all of that I’ll be seriously impressed”.

Perusing the sad contents, Bernie managed to cobble together a half decent idea. She swung round to face Serena, amused to find her looking so embarrassed. She’d never seen her quite so flustered, even when they had particularly trying stints in theatre and wondered why she seemed so bashful now. Was it because she was uncomfortable with her being there? She didn’t linger at the thought.  “Stock cubes?”

“Probably”.

“Right then, Bolognese it is,” Bernie concluded as she grabbed the mince and tomatoes, and stuck them on the counter.

Serena eyed the ingredients warily. “Haven’t got any”.

“No – we’re going to make it”.

“I gathered that,” Serena drawled, “but I don’t have any sauce for it”.

Incredulous, Bernie fixed Serena with a look. “Wow – ok. We’re going to cook, Serena, not just use things out of jars”.

Annoyed, Serena toyed silently with her necklace. Maybe all of this hadn’t been such a good idea, if all she was ever going to do was make a fool of herself in front of Bernie. In the hospital they were equals, on the same footing and with the same experience but in the kitchen she was very blatantly the underdog, a position she was unaccustomed to. She never allowed herself to be put in those kinds of situations where she was pushed beyond her depth, her pride running too deep. Either be the best or don’t try at all, was a motto she’d quickly gotten used to.

Sensing her frustration, Bernie gave her an apologetic smile before coming up behind Serena, laying both hands tentatively on her shoulders and squeezing. From her vantage point, she could see the spattering of freckles across the back of her neck, leading down to the tops of her shoulders and wondered how far they worked their way down her back. “You’re going to make one from scratch, it’s easy. You just need a blender –“

“That’s something I do have,” Serena moved away from Bernie’s touch to instead reach for one of the higher cabinets. Her blouse rose as she stretched, and Bernie felt herself drawn to the slither of skin that was revealed at Serena’s hips, pale and smooth. She turned away abruptly as Serena made a triumphant sound, pulling the blender from the shelf. “Eleanor had a serious thing for milkshakes when she was younger”.

“Ah yes, I remember those days,” Bernie reminisced, keeping her eyes focused upon the tomatoes in front of them. “Charlotte was the same, if it wasn’t strawberry flavoured she wasn’t drinking it”.

“That’s the joys of children, isn’t it? All the odd stages and funny whims,” Serena said. “What now?” She nodded towards the now plugged in blender.

“I’ll boil the kettle if you chop the tomatoes?”

They moved around each other with a politeness that was just a little offsetting, as if they hadn’t gotten used to one another’s movements. Silently they both set about their tasks, the only sound the scrape of the knife as it hit the chopping board and the steady rumble of the kettle. Bernie wished they could just fall back into being at ease like they were at the hospital, rather than linger on tenterhooks like strangers.

Pouring the boiling water onto the beef stock cube that Serena had discovered earlier, she watched it dissolve away, wishing fervently that the tension would do the same. The kitchen fell to silence as Serena finished chopping, and looked over her shoulder questioningly.

“Now just chuck the tomatoes in there,” Bernie nodded at the blender, “and then this goes in and you’ll have the beginning of something beautiful”.

As Serena did as she was told, she was startled by the sudden and insistent vibrating from her back pocket. Onehandedly, she awkwardly fished her mobile out of her pocket and checked who was calling. Shooting Bernie an apologetic look, though glad of the distraction away from the slightly awkward tension in the room, she answered.

“Jason,” she greeted, as she shook the last of the tomatoes free from the chopping board and into the blender, “you alright?”

“Yes thank you. I just had to ring you because I wanted to remind you that I am going to be late home from chess club tonight”.

Serena pulled a face and Bernie snorted as she watched her trap her mobile between her ear and her shoulder, flicking the last stubborn piece of tomato off of the board.

“Are you?” Serena heard her nephews frustrated sigh at her question.

“I told you this last week, Auntie Serena. Do you not listen?”

Rolling her eyes, Serena waited for Bernie to pour in the liquid stock before she roughly jammed the lid onto the blender, blindly seeking out the power button.

“Well Jason I do have quite a lot of things to do during the week, so I am sorry if I forget somethings. But as long as you’re home tonight by eleven, then that’s fine”.

Distracted by Serena’s profile that was highlighted in the twilight that poured through the windows, Bernie was just fractionally too late to notice the lid not properly secured.  Springing forward, she reached out a hand.

“ _No_! You haven’t-“

But it was too late, even as Bernie dived for the blender, as it whirred to life.

In an almost fantastical explosion, the lid rattled loose and a shower of tomato puree flew into the air, spreading with impressive speed. With a burst of speed, Bernie threw herself in front of Serena as she furiously searched for the power button, eventually managing to turn it off. Not that it made any particular difference as the entirety of its contents was already covering Bernie.

Bernie stood there for a moment in the sudden silence, speechless as she felt a droplet of tomato juice slide down her nose. Slowly she pivoted around to face Serena, who looked up at her with her mouth agape.

“Jason, I’ve got to go,” she murmured as her eyes tracked across Bernie’s red speckled face, already pulling the phone away from her ear and dropping it to the counter instead.

Bernie reached up to wipe more of the splattered tomato from her eyebrows, blew upwards as droplets threatened to slide over her lips.

With a concerted effort, Serena kept her hands to herself and instead looked on in horrified amazement, a look that was only amplified by the flecks of red that spattered her already burning cheeks. Bernie had taken most of the blender explosion, leaving Serena only speckled with the occasional splodge. As though in afterthought, Serena covered her mouth with her hand, eyes comically wide.

“Shit,” she breathed out eventually, the sound muffled by her palm, “oh god Bernie, I’m so sorry”.

Bernie snapped out of her daze and looked down at herself to see that she looked as though someone had shot her, her shirt crimson and splattered. She pursed her lips in contemplation.

“That was honestly an accident – I – I-“

But Serena stopped as Bernie broke into sudden raucous laughter, the sound surprising her. It superseded even the laughter they’d shared in the office when the unfortunate tap incident had occurred, Bernie’s laugh ringing out in peels as tears tracked her cheeks. Her head was tipped back, cheeks growing flushed, and Serena felt herself automatically smiling with her – at her. Unsure if it was relief or something more, Serena felt a warmth rush through her at the unusual yet charming sound.

Bernie wiped a hand across her cheek as she gulped back another round of laughter, blinking blearily at Serena who seemed caught between apologising again and joining in with her.

“Well,” she took a deep breath as another chuckle burst through, “that’s certainly – one way to get out of cooking anything”.

Bernie laughed again and this time Serena joined in, laughing hard enough that she collapsed back against the countertop, leant against her elbows. Automatically she moved closer to Bernie as she settled next to her, and suddenly it were as if they were back in Holby as a familiarity settled over them. Any earlier awkwardness or tension faded out as though it had never existed.

Plucking at her wet shirt, peeling it away from where it stuck to her stomach, Bernie flashed a smile at Serena.

“Want to swap?” She teased, reaching with sticky hands for Serena’s untouched blouse.

Slapping at them, Serena pulled away. “Touch me and you lose those long fingers of yours”.

Pouting, Bernie snatched her hands away as Serena tutted good naturedly at her.

Made more aware now of the way her shirt stuck uncomfortably to her, Bernie was struck with what she was going to have to ask of Serena, Bernie suddenly sobered as she considered that her very first time in Serena’s home was going to involve a period of nudity.  She never was one to do things by halves, but by Christ was she going for it now.

“Any chance of a shower?” she asked meekly, feeling the droplets begin to grow sticky against her skin, “and a change of shirt?”

“Of course,” Serena said, shooing Bernie with her hands out the door and towards the stairs. “Just keep your hands where I can see them alright?”

Bernie went to salute her but thought the better of it, nodded instead as she trailed up the stairs with her hands held aloft before levelling out on the landing. Unsure where she was going, she dithered at the top of the stairs as she waited for Serena to direct her.

“Second on the left,” Serena told her as she pointed down the hall, “I’ll go and grab you something to wear, shall I?”

“Much appreciated”.

“Just shout if you need anything else. I’m sure I can –“ she paused, smirking and Bernie’s stomach flipped, “lend a hand”. With one last smile that left Bernie breathless, she disappeared through another door into what Bernie could only assume was her bedroom.  

Stepping into the bathroom and holding her breath, Bernie shut the door behind her and hurriedly stripped. Only when she stood beneath the spray, not bothering to let it warm up, she slowly let out the breath she’d been holding as she relished in the sudden intense chill that ran through her. Groaning, she covered her face with her hands and tipped her head back, the only thing she could think in that moment was how truly in over her head she was. She’d expected it to take weeks, months even, for her to make a definitive decision about her feelings but it had been one night – one single night and she already knew all she would ever need to.

She was falling for Serena, only she had no idea whether her feelings would ever be reciprocated, if Serena would ever see her as more than a friend – if she even saw women in that way. She dropped her forehead against the glass, breath misting before her as she sighed.

“Well fuck”.  

…

Having laid out a blouse for Bernie, hanging it from the bathroom door handle, Serena sat on a kitchen stool with a glass of Shiraz. She’d already mopped up most of the tomato puree from the floor and counters, and would clean up properly later but for now she sat and drank as she listened to the boiler hum away as the shower ran. It was oddly satisfying to know Bernie was upstairs, that she had someone other than Jason taking up space in the house.

The monotonous hum stopped and she listened to the shower doors clatter open, bathroom floor squeaking as Bernie made her way across the room. She could almost pinpoint where she was; at the sink, then the towel rack before coming to the bathroom door.

Only minutes later she heard the quiet descent of Bernie’s footsteps down the stairs, and so scooped up the other wine glass that she had poured and headed for the hall. Meeting Bernie at the bottom, she gave her a soft smile and passed her the glass, eyes running across Bernie’s body.  The blouse she’d picked out quite deliberately, was a stark contrast to what Bernie usually wore, the bright red – almost orange – material highlighting the golden hue of her hair.

“I really am sorry,” she said once more, but Bernie waved her apologies away as she sipped her wine.

“Don’t be, accidents happen. I’m just glad it wasn’t something worse than a bit of sauce”. She bumped her shoulder playfully into Serena’s, before running a hand through her wet hair, the ends already starting to curl as they began to dry in the warm air. She marvelled in the soft scent of the shampoo she used, her stomach knotting at its familiarity and just that one small thing shared between them pulled tightly at her heart strings.

“Takeaway? My treat?” Serena offered, as they padded through to the living room.

“Hmm, sounds like a plan”. Bernie looked about before she settled on the sofa next to Serena, taking in the modestly decorated room, accented with hints of colour that was tasteful and understated. “Chinese?”

Serena drew her feet up beneath her as she settled deeper into the sofa cushions, “Thai?”

Laughing, Bernie twisted in her seat so she was facing Serena, her fingers playing idly with the soft material of her borrowed blouse. “You and your curries, huh?

“You can lead a horse to water and so on”. Serena leaned over the arm of the chair to snag her iPad, drawing it onto her lap before she searched through Thai menus. “So, are you still coming back for more next week?  Or have I frightened you away?”

Bernie sighed as the next words came out of her mouth, almost resigned to the significance of them.

“You couldn’t keep me away if you tried”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Holby City characters.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Holby City.


End file.
